


Peeking

by phamnotof



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Filler, Fluff, M/M, set between 3x05 and 3x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phamnotof/pseuds/phamnotof
Summary: Set between 3x05 and 3x06. Penny visits Fillory. Unless he’s high, Quentin and Eliot are kind of acting married now and he really wishes he could erase the mushiness from his memory. Fluff/humor, PG-13.





	Peeking

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, let me know, cause I’ve never written for this fandom before and 1) am self-conscious 2) have part two all thought up but will be too lazy if nobody gives a fart.

Okay, so, the thing is – Penny‘s bored. So don‘t judge him. He‘d definitely rather be fucking Kady or sleeping or god, _eating_. He misses eating so much. But there are certain pleasures of life you just lose after you sort of, well, die.

 

So this is what he gets now. Peeping in on the life formerly known as his own. Not quite dead enough to haunt it, but way too dead to participate unless a really convenient key gets involved.

 

There even comes a point where he misses Quentin, for fuck‘s sake. He hasn‘t been able to deliver a proper verbal smack down for days now, and Quentin is so – Quentin. Naive and fumbling and trying way too hard. And besides, the Physical Cottage is getting boring. Alice and Julia have spent weeks pouring over dusty old books, Hyman keeps trying engage him in really creepy, voyeuristic pleasures, and even laughing at the drunken desperation of Dean Fogg eventually just grows – well, sad.

 

So he makes a trip. Pops over to Fillory because hey, at least he has the excuse that if something world-shattering just happens to be happening there, as it occasionally does, he can try delivering the news to Julia and Alice. If they bother to pick up the key that day.

 

The first person he comes across is Benedict. And Penny even fucking misses Benedict. He could go for three-hour conversation about proper mapping etiquette and the various ways the wind changes the angles of your – to be honest, he doesn’t know. There was something about angles. But it was thrilling compared to what he gets to enjoy these days.

 

Penny follows Benedict on his way to, presumably, the throne room. Benedict seems to be in quite the hurry, which Penny finds odd. And thrilling, of course, because the chubby map expert rushing might mean there is something exciting happening. He’s meeting Eliot, it turns out. The High King of Fillory is wearing a concerned look that doesn’t match the pinkish frill of his frankly ridiculous dress shirt.

 

“It took you long enough,” Eliot says as a way of greeting.

 

“My apologies,” nods Benedict. “King Quentin is not cooperating as well as we’d hoped. It seems that hiding him in the dungeons was a flawed move, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

 

“He’s sulking?” Eliot guesses. Penny chuckles. Figures that Quentin would manage to make something as incredible as being alive and not dead or in limbo seem like a chore.

 

“He keeps walking in circles. It’s frightening the mice,” Benedict says, as if the well-being or mice is a perfectly normal thing to concern oneself with.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Eliot sighs.

 

“Want my to come with you, your majesty?” wonders Benedict.

 

“I better handle this myself,” Eliot shakes his head and starts walking, his long legs carrying him with speed that Penny has to match with a slight jog. _“Come on, dude. It’s Quentin. He’s always a giant bummer,”_ Penny says to the walls.

 

*

 

The doors open with an unpleasant squeaking sound, aged and rusty now that magic isn’t here to make everything seamless. Penny was expecting a dark, gloomy room – instead, he’s treated to a hidden gem of the castle. A luxurious bedroom with a king-sized bed dominating it, flowers everywhere, gorgeous carved furniture and natural light.

 

Quentin, as he would, is sitting at a sweet-looking couch under one of the windows, looking rather pathetic as he flips through a Fillory and Further copy.

 

“Oh, Q,” says Eliot, crossing the room in two giant steps and collecting Quentin in his arms. _“_ _Well, this isn’t weird at all,”_ comments Penny to nobody in particular.

 

Quentin seems to melt into Eliot’s arms automatically, burying his nose into Eliot’s chest and breathing in deep. “Missed you,” Penny hears him say. He kind of sounds like a four year old, really, clinging onto Eliot. “Not used to not having you around these days,” Quentin chuckles wetly.

 

“ _God, please, don’t be crying,”_ Penny mutters. Maybe he should reconsider watching Alice and Julia do their research. This is way too Desperate Housewives for him.

 

“I miss you, too,” Eliot says, voice quivering slightly. “You kind of grow on people,” he adds, and both men laugh at a joke that’s escaping Penny. “Want to lie down for a while?” Eliot asks with an oddly tender voice. Penny’s not used to this, Eliot’s not one to pussyfoot around a problem.

 

Quentin just nods into Eliot’s chest. The two of them shift around, never quite breaking their contact, and end up lying on the way-too-small couch, Quentin resting in Eliot’s arms, their feet entangled.

 

Penny wonders if semi-ghosts can get high on accident. He did spend some time yesterday watching Josh Hoberman cooking something that looked frighteningly similar to crystal meth. Maybe it just takes a while longer to kick in when you’re on a different plain of existence.

 

Eliot kisses Quentin’s forehead. And then he does this again. And again. Apparently, it’s a thing. With each peck, Quentin’s solemn expression grows a bit brighter, until he’s damn near giggling.

 

Penny wishes he had a camera. Or Advil. _“What the fuck?”_ exclaims again, flabbergasted. “ _If you two start fucking, I’m outta here,”_ he threatens them unnecessarily. _“And I’m telling – well, I’m telling Hymen at the least, he’s gonna get his world rocked.”_

 

But the air in the room goes from playful to more serious again. Both Eliot and Quentin seem deep in their thoughts now, Eliot occasionally interrupting his thoughts to tuck Quentin’s hair behind his. It’s all so damn – intimate.

 

Penny misses Kady.

 

“I know this is the best,” Quentin starts talking again. “I know I need to be figuring out where to look for the next key, and that it’s the least likely the elves discover me if I keep hiding out.”

 

“But you can’t stand it here,” Eliot guesses.

 

“It’s not the room. It’s – well, it’s being in it all the time. Just me and my head and time and no you or anyone else to talk to,” Quentin shrugs.

 

“ _When did you people get married?”_ Penny asks in the lull that follows.

 

“Maybe it’d be best if we got you back on Earth. We do have the keys. And there’s less danger,” Eliot says.

 

“And Julia and Alice,” Quentin adds.

 

“And Julia… And Alice,” Eliot echoes, putting a bit of distance between their bodies.

 

“Hey, you have like, a wife. _And_ a fiancé,” Quentin says. “And, besides, technically, I haven’t seen them in decades. A visit _would_ be overdue.”

 

“ _Decades_ _?”_ Penny wonders again. He definitely must be high, he decides.

 

“Well, you can go today,” Eliot shrugs.

 

“You know the next key is in Fillory,” Quentin shakes his head. “And besides… If I didn’t want to be here with you, I’d have left weeks, ago, asshole,” he rushes the last part out.

 

“Hmm,” Eliot smiles, self-satisfied. “Is that so.”

 

“Asshole,” Quentin repeats, and cranes his neck to deliver a quick kiss on Eliot’s lips.

 

“ _Seriously?”_ exclaims Penny. _“You two?”_

 

Eliot is looking extremely pleased with himself now. Somehow, they look all at once content and mold into each other like they’ve spent a lifetime doing it – but also like horny teenagers only just now daring to admit they might be interested in each other’s privates. Penny finds it all kinds of disturbing, and keeps judging himself profoundly for not having walked away yet.

 

“You haven’t done that for a while,” Eliot notes. Quentin turns around on the couch – how has neither of them fallen off yet? - so that his stomach is resting on Eliot’s.

 

“Is it okay that I want to sometimes?” Quentin wonders.

 

“It’s even okay that sometimes you don’t,” Eliot shrugs. Quentin kisses him again at that, slower and more deliberate.

 

“I think you should make me like, a servant of yours. Margo’s handmaid. You know, something that lets me like – do something. Not just be stuck here all day. Be near you and Margo while you’re being all royal,” Quentin notes.

 

“Roally fucked, more like,” Eliot says.

 

“I’m serious,” Quentin insists.

 

“What else is new,” Eliot retorts. Quentin just gives him a look. “Okay, fine,” Eliot breathes out, as if giving in. “Guard duty?”

 

“But their hats are so stupid!” Quentin shrieks out, but there’s no heat behind it.

 

“You’ll go well together then. Besides, anything closer to us might get you on their radar. There’s plenty of guards. Even you and your cute butt are bound to blend in.”

 

“Cute butt, huh?” Quentin is smirking now.

 

Penny fumbles far more than non-corporeal beings should be able to on his way out. He still doesn’t manage to miss Eliot’s hand grabbing Quentin’s ass.

 

Being bored sounds fucking amazing just about now.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can reblog this on Tumblr. https://shameairplane.tumblr.com/post/170984506773/queliot-fic-peeking


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